


Sýnin.

by XX_CALIBRE



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:29:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28576035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XX_CALIBRE/pseuds/XX_CALIBRE
Summary: Stay with me, old friend.
Relationships: Eivor & Synin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. My Raven.

His heart is heavy, his chest tightening. The pain in his gut, the pain in his lungs—his chest. What is happening? His eyes scout, his weapons fly.

“Eivor!” One shouts in the middle of the battlefield, voice desperate to bring him back. “Where are you going?!”

“Cover me!”

He has dropped his weapons.

_Something is not right._

Eivor runs. He leaps. He dashes through the lines of men and women. Only his hunting axe is beside him. Only his hunting axe. His eyes blow wide: his eyes scout; his weapons, gone—

Sýnin’s caw never cried before. Nor have her wings been bathed in so much vermilion. Nor has she ever fallen into the snow with a sickening crunch.

His heart is heavy, his chest tightening. The pain in his head, the pain in his chest—his heart. That cannot be happening. His head shakes, his axe is drawn.

“ _ **NO**_.”

Eivor’s voice never broke before. Nor has he fallen to his knees. Nor has he watched life fade away—and tried to stop it with a vile weep.

“ _Gods,_ **_NO_**!”

He cries, heart heavy, voice broken. His eyes clouded in the hefty abundance of tears. He couldn’t see. He felt her wings but couldn’t see her. He feels her wings coated in scarlet. He feels her broken wings. He feels the arrow in her eye.

“No, you _CAN’T DO THIS TO ME_.”

_We are not meant to live forever._

_We are meant to say goodbye._

_We were not meant to be apart._

_We were meant to stay together._


	2. My Old Friend.

His heart is light, his chest no longer tight. That pain in his gut, the pain in his lungs—his chest. Gone. What is happening? His eyes open, scout; his weapons by his side.

“Eivor!” Sunniva shouts in the longhouse, voice desperate to wake him up. “You are needed!”

“What is it?”

His weapons are not by his side.

_Something is wrong_.

Eivor follows. He walks. Only his hunting axe is beside him. Only his hunting axe. His eyes are still shut with sleep: his eyes try to scout; his weapons are not needed—

Sýnin’s caw, wonderful and bright. Her wings, so clean and a beautiful black. She does not fall. She _flies_.

His heart is light, his chest no longer tight. That pain in his head, in his chest—his heart, _gone._ She lands on his shoulder, her beak presses against his crown.

“Hello, my old friend.”

He chuckles, heart light, voice soft. His eyes clouded by the hefty abundance of tears. He still could see. He feels her wings, and could see her. He feels the best of her heart. He feels the eye she had lost to protect him.

“Next time, I will do the protecting.”

_We were meant to stay together._

“Thank you, Valka.”

_We were not meant to say goodbye._

“Be careful next time, Eivor. There is only one unbreakable bond.”

_You are meant to be my Raven, Sýnin._

“Yes.”

_We are meant for Valhalla and we will go together._


End file.
